


After the Fall

by pieandangels



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 04:31:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/820010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pieandangels/pseuds/pieandangels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set just after 8X23 "Sacrifice"</p>
            </blockquote>





	After the Fall

Carrying Sam was nothing new. Feeling the warm pressure of his body, too weak to support itself, had become almost familiar to Dean. Sam had never been anything less than brave, but this time it was different. This time, with angels falling like comets, Dean was scared. He was scared because his baby brother was dying, and his angel was nowhere to be found.

"Castiel!" he called, knowing he would not receive an answer. Cas was one of those falling fireballs, his wings burning and his grace slipping away. Cas was tumbling to earth, alone, and Dean might never find him. He'd been alone before, when Sam was at Stanford and Dad was out on a hunt. But that was not the same, because he couldn't track Dad's cell phone, he couldn't drive to Palo Alto and find Sam at a bar. He couldn't even pray to the angel who always heard but never answered. This time, all his security blankets had been shredded, and he was left bare and shaking with a fear he had never known before.

Slowly, carefully, he lifted Sam into the back seat of the Impala, removing his coat and bunching it up to make a pillow for his brother's sallow head. He put a hand on Sam's forehead; it was burning.

"It's gonna be okay, Sammy," he whispered, sliding into the driver's seat and turning the engine over. If he could just get back to the bunker, everything would be okay. If he could put Sam in his own bed, make him soup in their own kitchen, let Sam know he was safe, home, then maybe everything would be alright. Cas could find them there. Kevin could find them. Normalcy could be restored.

He drove fast, headlights and tires flying over miles of asphalt, heart pounding inexhaustibly in his throat, recalculating the distance home with each passing mile marker. Behind him, Sam coughed weakly, and Dean's hands tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles paling. 

"Hold on, Sammy," he said, pressing the gas pedal down a little harder.

"Dean," Sam said, voice scratchy and thin. "Is Cas dead?"

Something sharp and hot shot through Dean's chest, a flaming arrow. "No," he said firmly. 

"How do you know?"

"I know," Dean said. And somewhere, he thought it must be true. He would know if Cas was lost, because the glow that had been burning inside him since Cas's return from Purgatory would fizzle out. It was as Cas had said all those years ago; they were bound together, and Dean would know if Cas died. 

"But - "

"He's fine, Sam." And suddenly, Dean was reminded of the years they had spent alone in cheap motels, Sam always scared Dad wouldn't come home. Always scared they would be left truly alone. And Dean, never allowed to admit his own feelings, would reassure him, night after night, until Dad finally did come home, drunk and beaten, but undoubtedly alive. Sam made a soft noise, and then his uneven snores filled the car. Dean felt his shoulders loosen a little.

The sun was beginning to peak over the horizon when Dean pulled up in front of the bunker. Sam awoke just as Dean pulled the keys out of the ignition. Still, his face was pale and cracked, the purple bags under his eyes more prominent.

"Are we home, Dean?" he asked, and Dean felt his chest tighten. 

"Yeah, we're home." He got out of the car and helped Sam into the bunker, half-dragging, half-carrying him down the hall and into his bedroom. Sam looked up at him with unfocused hazel eyes.

"Am I going to die?" 

"No." He turned out the light and left the room, tears burning in his eyes. He blinked them back and pulled out his cell phone. There were no calls from Castiel. Fear making each step harder, Dean wandered through the halls of the bunker, uncertainty tainting every movement. Would Kevin have any answers? The demon tablet couldn't have instructions for something like this. Sam wasn't supposed to survive, he was supposed to give his life. What was it Naomi had said? The ultimate sacrifice.

Dean needed Cas. Human or angel, he needed someone who would know what was happening and how to stop it. How to wake Sam from this fevered dream in which he was still just a little kid, desperately needing his big brother. Usually, Dean could fake knowing the answers, but not this time. He needed Cas.

And then, as if there was still some kind of God running the show, his cell phone rang. 

"Yeah?" he grunted.

"Hello, Dean."

"Cas? Where are you? Are you okay?" The questions tumbled from his lips, cascading across the phone lines.

"I'm somewhere in Colorado."

"Cas, are you - "

"I am sorry, Dean."

Dean was silent for a long time. He listened to Cas's breath on the other line, torn between distrust and unbreakable loyalty. Finally, he spoke, "Can you come to the bunker?"

"I will be there by tonight," Cas promised. He hung up.

Dean felt a tiny wave of relief splash around him. It was not enough to balance the tsunami of fear and guilt drowning him, but knowing Cas was on the way was enough to steady his heartbeat and let him fall into some semblance of sleep.


End file.
